|D'ya see dat button b'low dis? Yeeuh, click it...|
GoneThe blank page intimidates me now. I sit staring at the vast white nothingness, pencil poised to release beauty upon it, but nothing ever happens. Well, something happens, but it’s nothing more than a crumpled ball reminiscent of the trembling form lying on the floor. Ever since you left, it’s all I ever accomplish.Gone by M3rcuryDr4g0n
Maybe it’s the way the blank page mirrors the space you left in my soul. I’m not mad at you. I perfectly understand that you had to go. You couldn't physically remain with us forever, and that cold January morning just happened to be the day God chose to pick you up from this boarding school we call Earth. He decided you’d learned all you needed to know to be an angel.
I don’t remember it, but she likes to bring up now and again the times you’d sit with me in the morning before you went to work in the field. I've been told you would hold the pencil in my hand and guide it to create sil
FFM19 - Endless HallwayYou are alone in a dark room and you don't know why. There is a door and a window, but no more. The window is dirty, so dirty you can't tell how much light is outside.FFM19 - Endless Hallway by SilverInkblot
You stand and walk towards the door, reaching for the ornate brass handle. The inner mechanism turns and shifts with an audible click and the door swings on its hinges. You step into the hallway.
The path to your left is endless, much the same as the right. There are no distinguishing features on either side, no paintings on the bare walls, nor portraits of the people that inhabit this house. The soft plush carpet leaves castings of your footprints behind you as you decide to go left.
You walk for an indeterminate amount of time minutes, hours, years. You turn around.
The door is still right there behind you.
You try going right.
Recycled DreamsI was halfway down the second floor apartment stairs when I realized I'd left my left arm on the table.
It's no surprise of course, for I've always had a habit of misplacing important things like keys, documents, and identification cards, but to leave one’s arm on the table is truly embarrassing. I would have run back to get it, but the bus driver is always a bit early on Tuesdays and I could already hear the distant hum of the engine making its way to me. And it's not like I really need it for work anyway. So I left it behind.
It's penguins and oranges today; my latest client is a fairly normal one. The last dreamer wanted marsupial martial arts masters in Atlantis. In space. You would think putting dreams to canvas is an easy job, and you'd be right - but truly I wonder about humanity at times. Subconscious wanderings are laid bare to my paintbrush - they get their dreams, and I don't fall apart entirely.
Morpheus is upstairs. I know because I can see the color runn